Cooking Lessons
by Lady Cleo
Summary: Miroku shows Seishiro why he's taking cooking lesson. Established Miroku/Yuri with Seishiro/Noriko implied.


_**[Fic] Cooking Lessons - Yukan Club - Yuri/Miroku PG-13**_

Story title: Cooking Lessons by lady_cleo2001  
>Genre: Comedic Romance?<br>Pairings/Characters: Established Miroku/Yuri with Seishiro/Noriko implied.  
>RatingWarnings: PG-13 to be safe.

Summary: Miroku shows Seishiro why he's taking cooking lesson.  
>Author's Note: This takes place years after the series, assuming all the Club members are grown.<p>

Cooking Lessons-

"Cooking lesson?" Seishiro raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the leather couch. Miroku nodded confidently. The pair sat in the lavish but sparse apartment Miroku shared with Yuri.

The conversation had started fifteen minutes ago when Seishiro had showed up at the door. With Noriko up north attending a tea convention, the hospital manager had found himself with way too much free time on his hand. He'd intended to just work through dinner, when a nurse had brought him Miroku's latest hospital bill. With nothing better to do, Seishiro had decided to personally deliver the bill. The conversation had then strayed rapidly from bills to weekend plans (whither or not Miroku was planning on getting beaten into a pupil or shot on a case over the weekend) and from there to cooking lessons and Yuri.

"Cooking Lesson!" Miroku repeated.

Across the living room Yuri sat at the dinning room table reading a magazine and humming to herself in-between bites of her hotdog. Seishiro glanced over at the smaller girl and frowned. Being the group's resident genius he was used to seeing all and understanding all before anyone else, but this conversation had him doubting his own ability. "I don't see the connection."

Miroku shrugged casually, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Isn't it obvious that Yuri would kill for food- yes, but you taking cooking lessons?" Seishiro shook his head. "Perhaps if you give me an example."

The other man seemed to muse on the subject for a long second before turning towards the humming ball of energy called Yuri. "Uh, Yuri," the small girl perked up, swiveling from her place at the dinning room table to flash her eyes over the pair. "What should we have for dinner?"

"Roast beef," Yuri cried out, pumping her first excitedly into the air as she bounced in her chair. "No" the girl quickly amended as she abruptly halted her energetic chair dance, hugging her chest she grinned exuberantly, "spring rolls." A quick shake of the head negated that choice, "Thai noodles and fried bananas."

As Yuri slipped further into a food frenzy- ruminating loudly over her many edible loves - Miroku turned back to Seishiro as if this should have explained it.

"You're taking cooking lessons to satisfy her eccentric tastes?" Even as Seishiro finished speaking, he shook his head against his own thought. "If I'm not mistaken you once told her that she didn't have to marry a man who could cook, she could just hire a chef."

Miroku shook his head determinedly, the corner of his lips twitched up into a smirk. The detective stood and commanded, "Watch."

Moving around the coffee table, Miroku headed towards the open kitchen, Seishiro following a step behind. Swinging the refrigerator door open, Miroku grabbed several ingredients and moved them to the counter. Yuri's head whipped up, eyes narrowing in excitedly on the man moving around the kitchen. Working quickly, Miroku began mixing the ingredients together with a deft hand, pausing to occasionally test the ingredients with a finger.

By now Yuri was practically salivating, her eyes narrowed in like a starving hunter stalking its wounded prey- barely able to contain herself. "Miroku," Yuri began in a low dulcet tone, "what are you making?"

Miroku's hand froze and he glanced up at Yuri, feigning innocence, "Mhh- Tiramisu."

Yuri's eyes went wide in anticipation- if she'd had a tail it would've started wagging. Scrambling out of her chair, Yuri clumsily maneuvered around the table and over to Miroku's side. Planting herself next to him she watched his hands skillfully swirl contents together. With each added ingredient and each masterful twirl of the spoon she seemed to get more animated, a hand coming up to eagerly paw at the edge of Miroku's sleeve.

Miroku remained calm and indifferent to the eager bouncing girl at his side. When the ingredients finally seemed to form a recognizable mass, Miroku paused. Glancing casually down at the bursting Yuri, he finally spoke, "Test?"

Yuri head's bobbed fervently up and down, her eyes following the spoon with eager anticipation as Miroku made one last swirl of the ingredients. Lifting the glittering silver item from the bowl, he checked to make sure it was generously coated with the batter before handing it off.

The spoon, now licked clean, was handed back- her eyes beaming up at Miroku with what Seishiro could only define as absolute admiration. "Good?" Miroku questioned. Yuri nodded zealously.

Seishiro frowned, still moderately confused. Yuri was being Yuri. Had it been a seventy year old man swirling the contents of the bowl he was positive that her reaction would have been exactly the same.

Miroku added another dash of something and swirled the spoon through the ingredients again. Yuri was practically drooling again, tugging frantically at the edge of his shirt. "Miroku," she half whined, eyes darting between his face and the contents of the bowling.

The spoon swirled the contents some more as Miroku added another dash of this, a sprinkle of that, all the while ignoring the girl with what Seishiro assumed was practiced ease. Dipping his finger into the edge, Miroku tested the batter and nodded with satisfaction. Yuri chose that moment to yank forcefully on Miroku's arm, finally pulling his attention back down to her.

"Test?" She asked eagerly, eyes positively shinning. Miroku complied. Dipping the spoon back into the bowl, he held it aloft for her. The smaller girl swooned in delight, licking the spoon clean as Miroku poured the batter into a pan, set the oven and slipped the contents in.

Seishiro was unprepared for what happened next.

As soon as the oven door clicked shut, Yuri pounced – Spoon still clutched painfully tight in her fist, the small ball of energy threw herself into Miroku's arms, lips sealing forceful against his. Miroku caught her, unfazed by the attack or the force of the attack – which probably would have had any unprepared recipient knocked unconscious on the floor. The spoon finally dropped, clattering loudly against the wood floor, as Yuri wound her legs around Miroku, one arm keeping her balanced as she quickly worked the buttons on his shirt.

At this point, Seishiro quickly realized he was in danger of witnessing way too much. Clearing his throat once invoked no response, a second time only resulted in his cheeks reddening as the pair tumbled back against the refrigerator door. Turning quickly away, the man made a beeline for a door, barely waving goodbye as he slipped out of the apartment and into the relative safety of the hallway.

Sighing with exasperation, Seishiro shook his head and turned towards the elevator, "Cooking lessons!"


End file.
